


Stupid Mistakes and Predictable Consequences

by Caenea



Series: The Winterfell Reunions [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon gets a good telling off, Sansa is a BAMF, Sansa is taking no shit from anyone, Sassy Sansa, So does Daenerys, Tyrion is definitely realising she is the bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caenea/pseuds/Caenea
Summary: Sansa and Jon have a tense meeting about the implications of Jon bending the knee to a Southern Queen, backed up by Tyrion and in front of Daenerys.





	Stupid Mistakes and Predictable Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Serves as a sequel to The Marriage We Did Not Honour and a prequel to Intricacies.

Sansa’s fingers are tapping on the arm of her chair, and Tyrion eyes them speculatively. It is a danger sign, and the stiffness of Jon Snow’s back tells him that he knows it too. Daenerys is uncomfortable, and unsurprisingly so – it is a rare thing for the Dragon Queen to find herself in the position of the supplicant, but yet here they all are. Sansa Stark has grown and changed since she fled Kings Landing in the wake of Joffrey’s murder. This is a warrior, a Lady – a Queen. Finally, for the first time since she had the three of them summoned to her, she speaks, and Tyrion has to admire the absolute steel of her voice.

                “Do you understand the position you put me in?” she asks Jon. “Sending a raven to tell me you’ve bent the knee to a Southern Queen?”

                “Sansa –“ Jon starts, but she holds up a hand.   

                “Arya had to threaten several very valuable allies to convince them to remain long enough to let you explain. And I know that you think this is the best way to secure allies for the Great War, but I do notice you do not have a Lannister army at your back. I do notice that all you have brought us are Dothraki bloodriders and the Unsullied. And it is not enough, Jon, and without the Lannister support we have no food lines. We cannot feed the armies, we cannot house the armies, we will be lucky if half of them do not freeze to death. And all I get is a raven telling me the news.”

                “I would –“ Daenerys started, and Sansa snapped her eyes to her.

                “Not now you wouldn’t,” the Lady of Winterfell snapped. Tyrion drew a little breath, and sat up a little straighter. Sansa’s red hair was catching the firelight in it, and Daenerys looked like a pale shadow beside such lively colour. “Whatever my brother has done, I have bent my knees to nobody. I’ve bent the knee to too many Kings and Queens who promised they would be better than the ones who came before, and without exception they have failed. I am tired of hearing empty promises and meaningless platitudes from those who think they can rule me.” Daenerys blinked a little. “At this time, I am speaking to my brother. You may wait.” Jon hurried into the breach, and Tyrion looked at his wine, determined not to laugh, desperate not to start applauding.

                “I did what I had to do, what I thought was best.”

                “You swore fealty to the family who roasted our grandfather and uncle alive. You did it in front of Queen Cersei –“

                “The Usurper,” Daenerys corrected and Tyrion nearly groaned aloud.

                “Perhaps she is a usurper, and a traitor, and a murderess – I have conflicting accounts. But right now she is the one sitting on the Iron Throne, with the Iron Bank behind her and a decent food supply. If we aren’t careful she will rule that throne and this kingdom by the process of elimination because if the Army of the Dead doesn’t kill us, starvation or exposure might. You have not set foot in this kingdom since you were a baby. You have never seen the North, you know nothing about the North and you do not understand how proud a Northern man can be. Jon being declared the King in the North, the North proclaiming independence – you do not understand how much that meant, because you have never lived here.” Sansa leaned forward in her chair now, her blazing eyes fixed onto Daenerys. Tyrion’s heart was slamming so hard against his ribs he was breathless. She was _magnificent._ “In the eyes of the Northmen, Jon has committed treason. He has betrayed his allies for a silver-haired foreign Queen. Had he gone to bed with Cersei Lannister, they would be no less furious.” Tyrion choked on his wine, and had to turn it into a cough. Sansa merely carried on as if there had been no interruption. “You have spent your life under blue skies and bright sunlight, Daenerys Targaryen. You don’t know cold. The Northmen don’t believe you can rule them wisely when they know you do not know their life. Men here live hard, they die young and they fight for every single scrap they have. Look at the Starks. We are the foremost family of the North, Winterfell is the great castle of the North – and it’s barely bigger than a holdfast. The last time a Stark man trusted a Southern ruler, I had to watch him die in front of my eyes. I had to hear about how they sewed my brother’s direwolf’s head onto his body. I was beaten, and humiliated, and tormented by a mad sadistic King who ordered the death of my father. So forgive me, Daenerys, if I am in no rush to bend my knee to you, and if I am concerned that my brother has seen fit to do so.” There was a silence in the room, and Tyrion thought his heart might burst with pride.

                “I will speak to the Northern Lords,” Jon said. “I bent the knee because she will be a better ruler than the rest, and I bent the knee because I felt it was the right thing to do. With her armies, we have a chance against the Night King and his Wights. With her dragons, we have a chance.”

                “So it’s all political, is it?” Sansa asked, her voice hard. “Nothing to do with _physical desire_?” Jon went redder than his sister’s hair and Tyrion became momentarily distracted in his admiration of the shade. “You fool,” Sansa whispered.

                “It’s not like that. I bent the knee before that.”

                “That does not make it better!”

                “Sansa, I do appreciate your concern, but I am still King in the North and I don’t need your permission to do what I think is best for my people.”

                “No, you do not,” she answered him, and stood up. “But you left me in charge, Jon, you named me Warden of the North before you left and I did all I could. And it has not been easy. With Petyr Baelish dropping his poisons around, with the Knights of the Vale questioning you, with Arya threatening death to everyone who spoke even a whisper against you, with Bran having visions of everything – you left me in an impossible position when you bent the knee where and when and how you did. Had you done it here, with them present, with them involved in the process, perhaps this would have been easier. But you left me to try and justify your actions while I did not know why you did them. Can you understand?” Jon looked rather like a naughty schoolboy, Tyrion reflected. He chanced a glance at Daenerys, expecting to see annoyance, or even anger. Instead, he saw respect, and even admiration. “So you can deal with the consequences of this.”

                “I will. And I didn’t mean to make your job harder.” Sansa sighed. She said nothing for a few moments, and instead she walked over to Tyrion. She took jug and goblet from him, pouring herself a cup of wine before she took it back to her desk and sat back down behind it.          

                “Jon, I will defend you until my last breath, you know that,” she said quietly. “You’re family. I don’t forget what Father said. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies – but the pack survives. You are a Stark. I am a Stark. Arya and Bran are Starks. If we do not stand together, as a united front, we are doomed to die. You make it hard to stand together when you don’t trust me. I said it to you before you left, and I say it to you again – Father and Robb were and are very dear to me, but they made stupid, stupid mistakes. This might have been, and might still be, your stupid mistake. You have to convince people that you have made the right decision for them. You have to convince people that your Queen will not bleed their lands dry, or seize all of their crops, or summon their sons to die on trumped up charges.”

 

The silence in the room was thick. Tyrion was looking at Sansa, as if nobody else in that moment existed. Her back was straight and her head was held up high, and in that second she could have been a Queen herself. Jon had been right, when he had said she was starting to let on about how smart she was. She had played the game with them before any of them had realised she knew the rules. She had stood against Queens and Kings and brutal men and she had beaten every single one of them. She had stood against insurmountable odds and uncountable humiliations and come out the other side with armour for skin. She was beautiful, strong and clever. She was brave, cunning and indomitable. Perhaps Sansa had finished paying her price and this was her reward – to be more the winner than any other. He would swear that in that moment he fell in love with her.

 

Fortunate really, that Jon speaks when he does, to save Tyrion from blurting out something unfortunate.

                “Sansa, I’m sorry. I didn’t think through what you’d have to deal with when I made the decision I made. But I was trying to do the right thing, and I believe this is the right thing. If the Lords have issue with it, then they can bring those complaints to me.” Sansa nodded, but there was still a frown.

                “You might find them harder to placate than you believe. Lyanna Mormont in particular is displeased, and as small as her house may be, we need Bear Island behind us now.”       

                “Mormont?” Daenerys said, leaning forward slightly. Sansa flicked her eyes to her and nodded.

                “You know the House?”

                “Jorah Mormont is a friend, and an advisor. A valued one.”

                “If he is half so wise as his niece, then you have chosen very wisely,” Sansa answered. “Lyanna Mormont has been a formidable ally and a fierce friend. However, I think that if we can convince her, you shall find the other Lord’s easier work. Start with her,” Sansa said decisively, taking up a quill and pulling paper towards her. “Now, I need to try and work out how to feed 10,000 Unsullied and a few extra thousand Dothraki – and an accurate count on that, by the way, would be astonishingly helpful.”

 

Tyrion watched as the King in the North and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms left the presence of Sansa Start was meekly as children. He himself remained seated, watching her write.

                “Can I help you with something, Tyrion?” she asked, without looking up.

                “You are a very formidable woman, Lady Sansa.”

                “I have had to be formidable. I have been married to a monster, betrayed by a man who claimed to love me, seen my little brother executed in front of my eyes. Formidable is necessary if one is to survive.”

                “Yes. But it is not necessary to live.”

                “Winter is a brutal time, Tyrion. The long night is not kind to those too fragile to endure it.” She laid down her quill and looked at him now. “My father used to say that my hair was kissed by fire and that it would stand me well when winter came. I used to laugh at him, because I was a silly, naive child. I had dreams of a handsome prince and beautiful golden haired babies and an endless summer that would last all my life and all my children’s lives. None of that came true, but his promises did – that winter would come. And here it is, and here we are, and they tell me the Wall is down and the army of the dead are coming. Let’s see what hair of fire can do against a King made of ice and dead men brought back to life.”

                “You have beautiful hair, my Lady,” Tyrion said, and he saw the small, rather embarrassed smile.

                “And you are a silver-tongue charmer.”

                “Yes, I am. Is it working?”

                “That will depend on what you want from me.”

                “Only for you to keep keeping your brother under your wise counsel, Lady Sansa. I will concentrate on the Dragon Queen,” he said, getting up and taking his wine back from her. “I will leave you to your work, Lady Sansa. Let me know if you require a sharp mind and a sober wit.”

                “Certainly,” she answered, keeping a straight face as she continued. “I will be sure you inform you, if I require the services of Missandei.” He had to laugh, and even though her head was still bent over her papers, he could tell she was smiling.                

                “You’re a clever woman, Lady Sansa.”

                “Thank you, Lord Tyrion. And do take it easy on the wine – or we’ll all be rationed before too long.”

 

Kissed by fire or not, Sansa Stark was a force to be reckoned with. People had attempted to use her as a pawn, and now she had crossed the board and become a Queen. Tyrion had to admire such iron will – hadn’t he survived on will and brains when he had nothing else? It seemed that Sansa had too.

 

People were going to have to start watching their step around Winterfell, and he for one would watch events with interest.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! A teething baby and a chest infection (for me, not the baby!) does not a writer make. 
> 
> To the old fans, welcome back, and to any new ones, I welcome you! Feedback is as important as ever, and as valued as it always has been.


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